"Yes, I'm here," answered the scientist.
"Well, can you explain that phenomenon?"
"That," drawled Darrow, a slight note of laughter in his voice, "was that extraordinary upheaval of natural forces known as Brother McCarthy going away from here—hastily."
Jack chuckled.
"He hit me on the way out," remarked that young man. "I'll testify he was a solid spook."
The reporter was methodically striking match after match, but without result. After a moment the acrid smell of burning woolen rose in the air.
"Are you dropping those matches?" asked Darrow.
"Sure; they're no good."
"Well, they're good enough to burn holes in McCarthy's rugs. Stamp around a little to put them out; and quit it."
"What next; and how long?" asked Jack. "What is it? Have we gone blind, or is it a total eclipse, or what?"